Marcus smiled and said good morning to the security guard at the main entrance. He saw the Driver walking across the parking lot and honked and waved, but Walter didn’t look up.
Marcus made his way to his office and found a package on his chair. He picked it up and examined it, but it had no labels or identifying marks. He sat his briefcase down on the desk, opened the envelope, and looked inside. Marcus felt the blood drain from his face.
He reached in and pulled out the manila mailer he had prepared and mailed the night before. He also removed a thick folder. A yellow sticky note with the words “Naughty, Naughty” scribbled on it was affixed to the mailer, and a big red circle was drawn around the words “FDA Compliance Division” on the address label Marcus had typed.
Marcus collapsed into his chair, and the contents of the folder spilled onto the desk. He surveyed the pile of photos and articles that splashed out, his life passing before his eyes as the materials remained in roughly chronological order as they fell. Marcus grabbed the first piece of paper and looked at it, sucking in air as memories flooded him. It was a copy of an article that had appeared in Cancer magazine twenty years ago. Marcus read the lead paragraph:
In a paper presented to the faculty last month, Craig Marcus, 33, a graduate student at the University of California, San Francisco, School of Medicine, reported that he had achieved favorable results in animal trials with a type of genetically altered interferon he had developed. According to Marcus, the altered interferon reduced malignant tumor size and growth in mice that were injected with large doses of the drug. Human trials are still months away, but Marcus, who completes his graduate studies next month, is confident a sponsor in the private sector will provide funding to enable him to continue his research.
Marcus dropped the article and grabbed another from the stack, this one from the “News Briefs” section of the Journal of the American Medical Association, dated ten years ago:
After two years in a private oncology practice, noted cancer researcher Dr. Craig Marcus has announced his affiliation with Porter Pharmaceuticals Company. Marcus will act as a consultant to Porter and will head up the company’s chemotherapy research division. In a press release, Porter confirmed the appointment and acknowledged it was anxious to assist Dr. Marcus with the interferon research he had begun while a graduate student at the University of California.
Several photos of Marcus with Phillip Porter came next. Look how young I was, Marcus thought. Still had all my hair. The photos had been taken for use in an illustration accompanying a story in the Wall Street Journal. The story was paper-clipped to one of the photos. The headline read: “Porter Stock Soars on New Chemo News.” Marcus kept reading:
Porter Pharmaceuticals’ common stock rose for the third straight day, closing yesterday up 1.50 to 37.75 on rumors it has successfully completed animal trials of a new cancer treatment. The therapy, developed by Dr. Craig Marcus, uses recombinant DNA technology to alter the structure of interferon, a naturally occurring protein with inherent cancer-fighting properties, to increase the interferon’s toxicity to malignancies. Although Porter has not yet made an official announcement, the company is expected to publish its findings within the next two weeks. Porter will then likely seek FDA approval to conduct human trials, the last hurdle before the drug may be prescribed by physicians and sold domestically.
Marcus looked up, startled by a knock at the door. He straightened the pile of documents on his desk. “Come in,” he said.
The door swung open and Phillip Porter walked in, a smug grin on his tanned face. He moved to the desk and rummaged through the papers, his fingers caressing the sheets. “Enjoying your trip down memory lane?” he said, continuing to sift the stack before finally removing a piece of paper from the bottom of the pile and handing it to Marcus. “This one’s my favorite.”
Marcus looked at the document. It was an internal memorandum from Marcus to Porter dated one month after the Wall Street Journal article. “EYES ONLY–HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL” was typed in bold letters at the top, and next to Marcus’ name were his handwritten initials, although he could tell from the smudgy black marks around the letters that the document was a photocopy. He looked up at Porter.
“The original is in a safe place,” Porter said.
Marcus dropped the paper on the desk without reading it. “Go ahead,” Porter said, but Marcus did not move. Porter snapped up the memo and began reading out loud: “RE: Interferon Trials. The papers are buzzing about our successes with the altered interferon, but we’re not ready to go to market. The side effects in the human trials have been unusually severe.” Porter paused for a moment to look at Marcus, and then kept reading. “Normal interferon produces flu-like side effects, including fever, fatigue, joint pain and loss of appetite. It can also damage the liver. But the altered interferon magnifies those effects. Two deaths have occurred in the human trials that may have been caused, or at least hastened, by the altered interferon. So despite the fact reduction in tumor size has been noted,” Porter read, “I recommend we neither attempt to take the drug to market nor seek FDA approval for official human trials.”
Porter stared at Marcus and said, “That’s enough, I think, right?”
Marcus blinked several times, but did not respond.
Porter placed the memo back into the stack of papers on the desk, then gathered up the documents and photos and returned them to the folder. He tucked the package under his arm, then looked down and tapped his finger on the envelope Marcus had tried to mail. “Stupid,” Porter said. He opened the door and left the office, leaving Marcus staring stone-faced at the floor.